e's lack of
power to concentrate interest makes itself lamentably felt throughout.
We are conscious, as we read, that King Edward, or Longshanks, as he is
always named, is intended to impress us with his sterling English
qualities. He overcomes all difficulties, and if we could only unravel
his thread from the skein of characters, we should acknowledge him to be
a worthy monarch, brave, loving, wise, just and firm. One or two scenes,
we feel, are inserted deliberately for the sake of heightening his
character, notably that in which he elects to face single-handed a man
whom he supposes to be the redoubtable Robin Hood and who proves to be
no less than Llewellyn, Prince of Wales. Unfortunately these excellent
intentions are not seconded by the rest of the play. Some of the scenes
in which Edward takes part are not at all calculated to increase his
dignity; in the last of all, for instance, it is hardly an English act
on his part to conceal his identity in a monk's cowl and spy upon the
secrets of his queen's dying confession. That, however, may have been
pardoned by an Elizabethan audience; any trick may have been thought
good enough which exposed Spanish villany. A more serious defect is the
undue prominence given to Llewellyn and to Queen Elinor. This is not
accidental, for the full title of the play states that it is to include
'also the life of Llevellen rebell in Wales; lastly, the sinking of
Queene Elinor, who sunck at Charingcrosse, and rose againe at
Potters-hith, now named Queenehith'. Peele chose three distinct points
of interest because he knew no better. It seemed to him, just as it did
to Greene, that by so doing he would treble the interest of the play as
a whole; both were a long way from comprehending the wisdom underlying
the dramatic law of Unity of Action.

If not famous, Peele's Chronicle History has become, in a small way,
infamous, by reason of the representation it gives of the queen's
character. A Spaniard, she figures as a monster of cruelty, pride and
vanity, capable of wishes and deeds which we have no desire to remember.
At this distance of time, however, righteous indignation at the
injustice done to a fair name is perhaps uncalled for. The play is only
read by the curious student, and it is quite apparent, as others have
pointed out, that the attack is directed more against the Spanish nation
than against an individual. We may still regret the injustice, but we
know better than to wonder at